Getting Up
by EvilLittleNerd1981
Summary: "I remember wondering if I'd ever uncurl myself, ever face anyone ever again." Hermione's straight and Ginny's hurt.
1. Getting Up

Some people shower when they feel dirty. Other people pray. Other people cry. Some people do more than one thing. Almost all people, when they feel dirty, get a squirming feeling _inside_—a feeling that there's something deep down that you don't want but can't get out.

I got that feeling.

That sensation deep in your mind, body, soul, that I was _wrong._ Not that I'd gotten a question incorrect on an exam. Not that I'd misspelt a word. But that I was _unnatural_, just… wrong.

I did all I could to deal with it, the wormy sensation eating away at me.

First I put up a front. I said I was fine. That it didn't matter. Then someone used the wrong (or right, depending on how you see it) words, and I cracked. I couldn't put up a front any more. I made a hasty retreat while a single tear leaked out of my blurring eyes.

I found myself curled to take up as little space as possible on the floor, dry-sobbing my heart out.

_It shouldn't feel like this, _I thought. _It shouldn't hurt this much to lose someone who was never mine._

But it did. I felt an empty chasm open somewhere in my chest, and I remember wondering if such a melodramatic-sounding thing as a broken heart could really exist. I remember wondering if the someone who'd never been mine could have actually been my first love. I remember wondering how I was going to face her every single day for the rest of my life, what it would be like passing her in the halls, seeing her walking down the street, whether she'd glare, I'd lower my eyes, or we'd each awkwardly pretend the other didn't exist.

I remember wondering if I'd ever uncurl myself, ever face anyone ever again. It didn't feel like I wanted to—I just wanted a book, hot chocolate and maybe a few hugs sans judgment.

Eventually, my beautiful plan is foiled. My arms and legs already lost all feeling, and my stomach's started growling.

So I'll get up.

I'll face the world, face the someone who I wished was mine, face parents and siblings and expectations and I'll face them all with a face that's not mine.

My face is something I can't show anyone anymore. The nice ones will suffocate me; the not so nice ones will poke at it, drag out my agony, make everything worse.

But I'll get up.

I will.


	2. Forgetting

**The day before...**

When someone's in your arms, it's easier to forget they aren't yours.

When I had Hermione in my arms, when she was hurt by Ron's stupidity, it was so easy to forget. So easy to just hug her and think she was hugging me because she loved me, and not because it felt like I was the only one who wouldn't hurt her, the only one she could trust. It was so easy to forget it _wasn't_ me she wanted, so easy to move my head a little to the right and brush my lips past hers.

"Fuck!"

It wasn't so easy getting shoved away roughly, seeing the hurt, confused look in her brown eyes.

"Hermione…"

"No!" The brown was burning with anger. Anger and hate and betrayal.

We stood their, eyes locked, hers glaring, mine pleading.

"You've lied to me, Ginny." Her tone was distant and hard. She hated liars.

"I'm sorry! Damn it, I'm sorry Hermione, can't you see it?"

"No. No, I don't. What's happened to you, Ginny? When did it happen that you couldn't talk to me anymore? When did you change?"

"I haven't!"

But she just shook her head disgustedly. "I'd have expected this from Ron. Lavender. But never you, Ginny."

I opened my mouth and she cut me off with a jerk of her head. "Don't talk to me ever again."

And I had to watch as she turned around and left. Left the room, left me, left my world.

I don't know what to do now. I'm staring after her, at the door she'd closed without slamming, feeling my cheeks starting to itch from tears making tracks down my face.

_I never cry_, I think. _Never so much as a quivering chin, ever, and one girl reduced me to tears._

But she's not just a girl. She's Hermione. And she hates me.

I rub my eyes and face with my palms roughly.

I try to convince myself that it's over, and I'm fine. If I don't believe it, no one else will.

And it'll work, for a while.

It'll work until I forget again.


End file.
